


It's Scary Sometimes

by ice_hot_13



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Khajit are moving in together, and it's more than Matt can handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Scary Sometimes

This is supposed to be the best thing that’s ever happened to Khajit because – well, because Matt is involved, and Matt’s always been the best thing he has. Khajit has known that since they met in grade seven, not the first day of school but three months later; the teacher had redone the seating arrangement and Khajit ended up in a group of four with his desk diagonal from Matt’s, who he only knew as the boy who always had to be reminded that he can’t wear a baseball cap during class. The kid beside Khajit was mean to him, teasing Khajit about his planner – he’d written _hockey_ there under Tuesday, stars and exclamation points all around, and the kid kept calling it gay and stupid, and Khajit had been getting more and more upset, wishing someone would intervene, but the girl across from him was turned around talking to someone else, and Matt was sitting there with his chin on his outstretched arm, just watching. Right as Khajit had been at the point of tears, Matt had reached over and smacked the mean kid’s stack of binder, books, and pencil case off his desk onto the floor.

“Dude,” the boy had exclaimed.

“Cut it out,” Matt had said, flat but with this pent-up anger that made the kid flinch.

After class, it seemed like a given that Matt would follow Khajit to sit with him at lunch, and that was the first time Khajit thought _I’m so glad I have you._

Now, seven years later, moving into an apartment with Matt is supposed to be the best thing _ever,_ the best after the first time he got to kiss Matt, but this – it’s not – it’s not going the way Khajit thought it would.

“What?” he asks, motionless in the hallway with a box still in his arms. Matt sighs out a breath, runs his hand through his hair, this habit he has that only Khajit ever sees. His baseball cap’s off, which Khajit is used to, but everyone else would say is surprising.

“I just – I mean, it makes _sense,”_ Matt says.

“Sense? No, it doesn’t.”

“It – but it does.”

“Matt, no, what? Why would you want that?” Khajit doesn’t _understand._ Last year, around finals in December, Khajit had thought Matt was so stressed about their exams, but when he asked, Matt had blurted out a panicky confession, cracked under the pressure of being secretly in love with Khajit. Matt’s slept in Khajit’s bed every night he could since, and Khajit wouldn’t give that up for anything, tightly-wound Matt so calm and relaxed. But now – now Matt’s saying they should have separate bedrooms, they haven’t even unpacked more than two boxes in their new apartment, and it’s already going _wrong._

“Well, for like – when people come over, you know? Like, parents? I can’t just… not have a room of my own. It wouldn’t make sense. So we should – put my stuff in a different room from yours.”

“But-”

“Please, Khaj,” Matt says, nearly pleading, and that’s what _kills_ Khajit. This means a lot to Matt, and it’s the _wrong thing,_ he doesn’t want _this_ to mean a lot to Matt – _he_ wants to mean a lot to Matt. Not this, not something else, just – him.

“But _why?_ I mean, we’re living together, it’s _assumed_ we have the same room, even,” Khajit says, but the way Matt looks down and frowns, Khajit goes cold. “Matt…?”

“What?” Matt bites his lip, doesn’t look up. Khajit shifts the box in his arms, grips it so tight his fingers hurt.

“You didn’t actually tell them, did you.” It’s not a question, because he rarely has to ask questions about Matt. He always thinks he knows everything, but there are always these revelations, things he didn’t know that suddenly seem so obvious. He sets the box down, flexes his fingers, numb with pain. Matt shakes his head no.  “Why, Matt?” Khajit nearly snaps, “You don’t want them to know you’re into guys? Or you don’t want them to know you’re into me?”  

“Both,” Matt nearly whispers, and Khajit just – didn’t think he’d hear _that._ He didn’t think Matt would actually say it so clearly, _I’m ashamed of you,_ and Khajit leaves wordlessly, just can’t – can’t do _anything._ Matt’s _ashamed of him,_ doesn’t want to admit to calling Khajit his own, because maybe he’s not worth having, not something to be proud of. Khajit wants to tell every person he meets _this is my boyfriend, he’s just so amazing,_ and he wants – he wanted Matt to feel the same about him.

Khajit leaves. He ends up at the school library, because he can’t think of anywhere else to go at ten PM. He picks the quieter, emptier library, the one with the shelves with cranks on them that Matt is suspicious of. Khajit doesn’t have anything to study, can’t really focus on anything, and definitely doesn’t want to talk to anyone, has nothing he really wants to do. He kind of – hoped Matt would try and stop him from leaving. He wanted Matt to say _please don’t go,_ say _I can put my stuff in your room and call my parents right now and tell them we’re getting married._ Khajit sits on the floor between two bookshelves, staring at his phone in his hands. Maybe Matt will call him, say _come home please I need you._

That doesn’t happen. Matt doesn’t call, doesn’t text, and Khajit sits there for a long time but nothing comes. Maybe – maybe he was a little irrational, leaving like that. Maybe he just needs to talk to Matt, work this through, maybe he should have just held it together and stayed.

He goes back home, because he just – he misses Matt, he really misses Matt and wants to be told it’s okay, be told he was wrong and misunderstood, wants Matt back because he doesn’t feel like he _has_ Matt right now.

But when he gets home – the apartment is dark. It’s dark and silent every single box is still closed, and _none of this is right._

“Matt?” he calls out, flicking on the living room lights. Maybe Matt’s in their room – his room, Khajit’s room, what-the-fuck-ever, he’ll do any arrangements at this point, because this – this is fucking _scary._ Matt – he’s _gone._

He has to come back, though. He has to, Matt will come back, he _has to._ Khajit left, there’s no reason to think Matt wouldn’t have that same response too, won’t also come back. He starts taking Matt’s boxes to the second bedroom, stacks them neatly at the foot of the bed, hangs up some of Matt’s clothes in the closet, digs out a set of sheets and makes the bed. When Matt comes home later, if he says _I’m moving out tomorrow,_ Khajit can show him that it’s okay, he fixed it, tell him _but your stuff is where you wanted, so you can stay._

Ten o’clock goes by, then ten-thirty, and by eleven, Khajit is starting to panic. What if Matt isn’t even coming back tonight? Oh, God, maybe it’s already too late, he’s gone to sleep somewhere else and then tomorrow, he’s _moving out._

 _Where are you?_ Khajit texts him, so terrified he misspells every word multiple times before he can get it right. He sits on the couch and stares at his phone, wants to beg and plead _come back please please I’m sorry._ He just wants Matt to come back tonight; this can’t be _it,_ can’t be all the time they have together, Khajit still needs him. He just – just one more night, he needs Matt back for just one more night.

0o0o0o0o0o

Matt hates playing hockey without Khajit. He didn’t want to come, but Khajit just – left, and he didn’t come back in time for their game, so Matt’s here without him, gives everyone a story about Khajit forgetting to bring his gear to the new apartment, and no one tells him _what did you do_ even though it must be so obvious that this is all his fault. It feels like everything he does is a neon sign that _everything is wrong,_ because he’s too jumpy and nervous, he borrows a jersey and hockey socks from two teammates only to give them back because he’d thought he’d forgotten his but then found them buried in his bag, he can’t even _think straight,_ and doesn’t know how to function anymore, can’t do anything when he’s seen that kind of hurt on Khajit’s face.

He talks nervously on the bench, pretends not to notice that every time he does, someone looks at him with surprise. So he doesn’t usually talk much, whatever, maybe he just – feels like it right now. Because – because – God, he just needs something to distract him from how _fucking awful_ he was to Khajit. When Matt told him _both,_ he meant _I’m just too scared to tell them,_ meant _I don’t want to tell them it’s you and have them just say they knew it all along,_ meant he’s just so scared of questions in the only place he feels like he has nothing he has to wonder about.

They don’t even get on the board. Every run Matt takes at the goal just ends up diverted, something going wrong right at the very end, veering off and getting flipped around until the other team’s taken the puck and is racing back in the wrong direction.

“Hey,” one of the girls says to him on the bench, while they’re watching the last period slip away from him, “that was a great play, you’ve got really nice hands-” she goes on, says other things, but Matt stopped hearing after that. All he can think of – he can’t stop, can’t think about anything else - is the way Khajit shivers when Matt touches him, the way he suddenly has all the patience in the world while Matt maps out every inch of him, hands slow and soft, the way fast-moving Khajit stills and watches him, makes quiet little sounds and forgets everything around them.

When he gets back to the locker room, he checks his phone as he pulls at his skate laces with one hand. There’s a text, twenty minutes old, from Khajit, and it says _where are you?_

 _At our game,_ Matt sends back, and nearly instantly, Khajit replies with _are you coming home?_

It _hurts,_ hearing it like that, because oh, _home,_ it’s theirs and Khajit is waiting for him and wants him back and Matt’s never known this kind of happiness, but at the same time, Khajit has to _ask._ Matt’s hurt him so much that Khajit doesn’t even know if he’s coming back, and Matt never wanted to do that.

 _Yes,_ he texts, and rushes through getting ready, hurries out as soon as he possibly can.

It doesn’t take more than twenty minutes until he’s opening the front door of their apartment, but it feels like so much longer, like he wrecked everything and left, been away so long that destruction will have turned into abandoned ruins, unrecognizable.

Khajit is waiting for him, though, so the world can’t be ruined. He’s the most important thing; if he’s still here, Matt hasn’t lost anything he cares about, he still has Khajit.

“I’m sorry,” Khajit says, as Matt drops his hockey bag in the hallway, unzips his jacket with shaking fingers. “We’ll put your stuff in the other room, it’ll – that’ll be your room.” Matt just nods mutely. “What’d you tell the team? About – that I wasn’t there?”

“I said you forgot your gear.”

“I’m sorry for – putting you in that position,” Khajit says, and just the words make Matt flinch, Khajit so cautious and embarrassed that it hurts Matt, “thanks for not telling everyone I was just being a jerk. And – shouldn’t have left… thanks for coming back.”

“I missed you,” Matt says quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“’s okay,” Khajit almost smiles, not quite convincing enough, “c’mon, come see,” he says, starts down the hallway. Matt follows, and when Khajit stops at the doorway to the second bedroom, something like dread slinks into Matt’s chest, heavy and dark. “See, I set it all up for you, like you wanted” Khajit says, so hopeful, and then Matt sees – Khajit has brought all his stuff into the bedroom, even made up the bed, and it’s clear. This is Matt’s room, not theirs, just _his._

“Oh. Okay,” Matt looks down, tries to breathe evenly. “Guess – just – gonna go to bed, then? It’s late and all.”

“Yeah, g’night.”

Matt has to watch Khajit go down the hallway to the other bedroom, _without him._ And suddenly, he can’t remember a single reason he wanted this, why the fuck he thought he’d be happy even having a room of his own when it leaves this kind of possibility, somewhere that’s his and not _theirs._

He takes a shower and gets dressed for bed, but as soon as he sits on the side of the mattress, he just can’t _take_ it, dissolves into tears. Is this – is this Khajit telling him they’re broken up now? Oh, God, Matt really couldn’t handle that, they can’t be, _can’t,_ he really misses Khajit and he’s just down the hallway but it’s too fucking far and why did he _want this,_ want an empty bed and a separate room and what if he broke them up?

Less than thirty seconds later, he’s down the hallway and opening Khajit’s door, peeks into the room. “You awake, Khaj?” he whispers.

“Uh-huh,” Khajit mumbles, sits up a little in bed. He’s on the right side of the bed, just like always, and Matt just – just _really wants_ to be on the left.

“I miss you,” he says, inching into the room.

“I’m sorry.” The words break and tremble, though, Khajit is actually _crying,_ and Matt’s across the room in a second, nearly falls over a box in his haste. He waits, though, hands on the mattress.

“Can I?” he asks, even though he doesn’t know he’d be able to resist even if Khajit said no. Khajit nods, thankfully, and Matt climbs into bed, wraps his arms around Khajit before he even realizes that maybe he’s not allowed to do that right now. Khajit clings to him, though, so it’s okay, at least they’re this okay, at least Matt’s going to be allowed to try and make things better.

“Don’t you want me anymore?” Khajit asks, and Matt flinches, stares down at him.

“What? Course I do.” He’s not even sure how to confirm that, something so essential, he wouldn’t be himself without it, confused that it could even be phrased as a question, half expects grammar to fall apart around it because it’s just _not a question._

“Then why didn’t you come to bed with me?”

“I thought you wanted me in the other room now,” Matt says, feels so helpless. He still wants Khajit to tell him that’s not true, that it might look this way but it really, really isn’t. Khajit sniffles, holds onto him tighter.

“Course not,” Khajit says, thankfully. “But you said you wanted your stuff in there, which, that’s fine, totally fine. We’ll put your stuff wherever you want, I don’t mind. But I want you here with me.”

“I wanna be with you,” Matt finally, finally feels like things are being put back together now, that they’re fine, everything is fine. “And I’m not - I don’t - what you said about not wanting people to know it’s you - I didn’t mean that, I promise.” He hugs Khajit closer, doesn’t know how to tell him how _sorry_ he is. “It just scares me sometimes,” he whispers, this thing he’s never really been able to admit, “because - I don’t know what to do, and it’s so scary but there’s _you_ and I need you, I _love_ you, and I’m still learning how to do this, but - I’m getting better, and - someday, I’ll be okay. But only if it’s for you.” He couldn’t - couldn’t go through all of this for anyone but Khajit. It’s terrifying, enough that he’d quit if it was anything else, but - he has Khajit, and for as scared as he is, Khajit is always worth it.

“You just gotta remember,” Khajit says softly, “I’m here, too. _With_ you. It’s for us, so you don’t have to be scared by yourself.”

“I’ll remember,” Matt says, and the best part is that even if he forgets - Khajit will still be here, reminding him, _I’m here, this is all worth it,_ and Matt will be able to tell him _I know,_ because Khajit is the best thing to ever happen to him, and when they’re together - that’s when Matt has never been afraid. He can do this. Khajit is here; Matt can do this. 


End file.
